Of Marguerite, Ned, Rum, and Forgiveness
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: Marguerite gets drunk at a party and later tears up Ned's journal. John threatens Ned, to protect Marg. But Ned is determined not to be intimidated. Can Veronica save the day?  Also, they plan Thanksgiving for Ned.


Disclaimer: I do not own rights to these characters, which are used with the grace of the Doyle inheritance, New Line Cinema, and other interested parties. George and Finn were not romantically together on the TV show," The Lost World", but have been a couple in all of my fics. Note also that Finn cuts George's hair and trims his beard, making him look like he did in First Season episodes. They learned before leaving Rio de Janeiro for England that Jessie Challenger had died of flu in 1921, allowing them to avoid the spectacle of an ugly divorce, and marry in Rio. This story takes place after the Third Season, ignoring the cancelled Fourth Season, and before the explorers have found their eventual way off of the Plateau. But all three couples in the Treehouse have committed to one another, and will marry as soon as they reach suitable facilities for the services. (This was the British Embassy in Rio de Janeiro, Brasilia not having been built until the1950's.)

And now our story, which is Rated as Mature for mild sexual content, adult tantrums, and stressful situations. The year is 1924.

**Of Marguerite, Ned, Rum, and Forgiveness**

By

Gemini Explorer

Well after the fact, when the dust had settled, Marguerite Krux insisted on blaming her behavior on Prof. George Challenger's delicious rum punch. She had ingested four glasses of the wonderful punch, with white rum and tropical fruit juices, as mixed by Veronica Layton to her parents' formula, using rum distilled by George. He had done a splendid job of making the rum to professional standards, and it could have passed for the best out of the Caribbean. The finest products that the Americans made in Puerto Rico were no smoother or more flavorful, or anything from Jamaica.

Marguerite's fiancé, Lord John Roxton, swore that it was a danged sight better than the grog that he'd sipped occasionally while aboard Royal Navy warships during the late World War, when he had Army liaison duties with the sailors. And once while he lay in sick bay aboard a ship, returning wounded from Flanders…

"The German bullet didn't kill me," he related, "but that damned firewater nearly did. I think it was 150 proof! It'd take the lining off of your throat, or felt like it! I soon began asking the naval chaps for hot cocoa or tea. Thankfully, I quite like cocoa, and the Navy regarded it as their primary drink."

But the distinguished scientist's rum packed a stronger blow than the ladies in the Treehouse sometimes remembered, especially when it was in punch, not served as rum and tonic. The fruit flavors masked the 80 proof alcohol content usual for rum and all three girls had been known to giggle and get a little "tight" after a few glasses of it. In fact, Marguerite warned the other ladies that she suspected that the men might at times make the punch stronger than expected, with the idea of getting the girls a bit drunk, the better to entice them into whatever romantic activities the men had in mind after they were led up to their rooms.

"Why bother?" asked Finn. "I'll do whatever the Genius wants, anyway. I enjoy teaching him new stuff in bed. He's learned to totally unlax and "do" me in ways that he used to think were too naughty. He didn't even take me in anything much but the 'missionary' position for a couple of months after we got together. He, like, respected me too much! I had to talk him into trying new things. And I know now what he likes, and I take great pride in doing it with him. I'm his babe, and I'm going to keep him so happy that he'll never even think of looking at another chick if we ever get off of this Plateau! Besides, I just feel so glad to know that I can please him! It's a privilege that no other girl has, taking care of the sex needs of the world's greatest living scientist! Anyway, I'm less inhibited than he is. So, why does George need to get me drunk, unless he just has to think he's been clever, like guys do sometimes? I'd just play along if I thought he wanted that."

"Finny, you are incorrigible," laughed Marguerite. "Maybe some of it is that you were raised in a different century, when women had more freedom and didn't have to worry about being branded as "loose" or whores if they liked the things that you often do. When I was held by that blasted Sultan that I told you about, I had no choice, and some things that I did were meant to make me feel like a captive white slut subject to her master's will. Which I was!" (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan" on this board in the Mature stories.)

Veronica reached over and patted Marguerite's shoulder as they stood talking in the kitchen, as the men smoked cigars and drank brandy in the living room. "I was raised here on the Plateau, by the Zanga and the Amazon women, and about anything goes, with both. The Amazons even taught me to enjoy men, although it was from a pretty pushy standpoint. I'd never treat Ned like they did the men they captured. Although he does like me to ride him cowgirl style, sometimes. " She giggled. " I can't believe that I just said that! This stuff must be getting to me. Anyone else want some? I hate to pour it out and there's only a little left in the pitcher." She took her own advice and topped off her glass. She had never heard of a "designated driver" and she was already home, anyway.

If she was a little unsteady on the stairs, Ned would let her lean against him and lead her safely to their room. If he used her condition to proposition her, well, she was already happy enough to want the same thing. In fact, she decided to go in to the men soon and lead Neddy upstairs, and never mind if his male friends made risqué jokes about it.!

"Where was I?" she asked. "Oh: Zanga girls being mated are trained to please their guys almost as much as Marguerite had to, to serve that sultan. So, I'm not too afraid of what Ned or anyone else may think of me. But I sort of like to be in the mood for some things. Maybe that's why he'd try to get too much punch into me. Unless I was mad at him."

Marguerite wondered later if that was the moment that she began to fester, to resent the lack of sexual inhibition on the part of her friends. She was a very accomplished lover and liked pleasing Roxton, but had tried at first not to do things that she thought that a gentleman of his background might think beneath a respectable lady. He had soon sensed her apprehension and reminded her that he had been around, was not a hypocrite, and that he knew that she was not as restrained as she pretended. It came as a relief, although she hated being bowled out, her sham act seen through. Marguerite prided herself on being a consummate actress. Lord Roxton saw through her, and peeled aside the layers of her deception as surely and skillfully as he removed her clothing. And he was quite talented at that, when he didn't make her take it off herself as he lounged on the bed, watching admiringly as her body was revealed to him, bit by bit. Thankfully, she never bothered with corsets or multi-layered petticoats, and actually liked the freedom and limited coverage of the 21st Century lingerie that Finn had shown her how to design. It was just that she didn't like for John to smirk a certain way and assume too much when she might be in the wrong mood, or wanted to make him work to get what he was after. If he got her drunk, she had trouble resisting or pretending to be hard to get. She liked to feel more in control. It was bad enough trying to keep her dignity when he touched her and ran his hands over her, telling her just what every woman longs to hear. She wondered how many other women had heard those same endearments! She had come to realize and accept that he meant them, to her. But the same lines as 50 or maybe 250 other girls had heard… Marguerite scowled as she recalled that thought. She wondered just how many notches he had cut on his bedposts at Avebury, in his London rooms, and at various hotels, private homes, and country inns in Europe during the late war.

Lord Roxton had been known mainly as a war hero (he was awarded the Victoria Cross!), a big game hunter, an eloquent speaker in the House of Lords, and as a rich, handsome womanizer who attracted women like a picnic does ants. Marguerite didn't like feeling like the latest ant to the picnic!

She brooded about this now, only half listening as Finn and Veronica discussed what to do about Thanksgiving, an upcoming American holiday that meant a lot to Ned. She poured another drink, and had downed most of it when she realized that it was her fifth of the night. And they had served wine at dinner… An unladylike expression raced across her mind but she swigged the rest down, anyway. Then she excused herself, saying that she was tired and knew nothing worthy to discuss of foreign holidays.

She went out and told the men that she was going up to bed.

The blondes looked at one another, and Finn shrugged. "I don't know much about _Yanqui_ holidays, either, but holidays are holidays, and if it means a lot to Ned, I'll adopt this one. That pumpkin pie and turkey sound great!"

Later, Roxton joined Marguerite, who was already in bed. She turned her back to him and wouldn't say much except that she was tired. He noted that she was wearing a long flannel gown. And she seemed moody, not the situation that he was hoping for. But he was also tired, and went to sleep; hoping that she would be more approachable in the morning.

But she was not, and complained of incoming monthly cramps and a monumental hangover. Roxton decided to take it in stride and told her to come eat and to drink plenty of water. "A hangover is caused largely by alcohol making you feel dehydrated, and you need to get some water into you. And tea, and breakfast. You'll soon feel better.. If you aren't downstairs in an hour, I'll come to check on you. I'm hungry; I'm going down now. If I don't, Veronica or Ned will be up here wondering where we are."

"Umpf," she agreed. "Go. I'll get up in a few minutes. Damn that rum!"

Roxton raised his eyebrows, but tactfully said nothing. He thought the rum was fine. It was the woman's overconsumption that was the problem. But he knew not to light Marguerite's fuse in the morning before she had drunk at least one cup of coffee, so he buckled on his gun belt, got his hat, and went downstairs.

Breakfast went well for those who had not lain abed in their rooms, which was everyone but Miss Krux. Finn and Veronica made omelets, using eggs from jungle fowl bartered for from the Zanga, with tapir ham and with parsley from the garden. And they had oranges and pineapple. Finn rambled about how lucky they were to be eating so well, and it was true that they had refined the gardening and chicken raising to the best state yet. Challenger said that he'd make up a fresh solution of his brine formula for curing tapir hams and they could try to shoot another of the odd mammals later that week. He was saying something about how tapirs were related to elephants when Marguerite arrived.

She looked bleary-eyed and said little as she ate and consumed two cups of coffee. She heard the Challengers talking about some project in the lab that she hoped wouldn't result in an explosion to exacerbate her headache, and heard Veronica say that she was going down to water the garden and to gather onions for a stew later and to add to salads. Ned told her to go ahead; that he'd clean up the dishes before he edited some passages in his journal for the past week.

Marguerite went after another cup of coffee as Roxton excused himself to clean binoculars before they hunted later that day. He wanted to get any dust off of the lenses and be sure that neither he nor Marguerite had left any fingerprints on a polished glass surface to etch it from the acid in human skin. He also kept the leather coverings clean and used a touch of preservative if he saw signs of fading or dryness. The product that he used was one that Challenger had devised, much like the Armor All that would appear decades into the future. He maintained all of their binoculars, save for those owned by George and Finn, they being very meticulous about caring for their own. Besides the German ones by Carl Zeiss Optik, they had several pair by the renowned American firm of Bausch & Lomb, one being Ned's favorite 7X35 example. But today, he was checking just his and Marguerite's glasses.

Marguerite drank her coffee, feeling slightly more human as the hour passed. She glanced over to a nearby table and saw a stack of Ned's journals. She got up and wandered over, starting to read one from one written almost three years ago. She soon wished that she had left it alone.

Flipping through it, she found a page that mentioned her. She read, "I don't know what will become of us if Miss Krux cannot learn to contain herself. Today, she picked another fight with Lord Roxton, and taunted me when I asked her to be more considerate of others. She also made disparaging remarks about my manhood and was generally insulting. Prof. Challenger took her aside and calmed her, but even our gracious hostess, the wonderful Miss Layton, showed signs of decreasing patience with this harpy, this vicious, self-centered harridan whose purpose in coming on this expedition remains so cloaked in mystery. But I feel more sure every day that there is more to her than she will say, and I do not trust her as far as I could throw the tree in which our home is perched! Her idea of literature is the torrid, almost lewd sort, or silliness like that depicted in one of her books about Martians landing on Earth and causing ensuing terror! But she is cunning and has her own agenda. Perhaps worst of all, her heart is hard, like unto the diamonds that are her best, and perhaps only, friends, and for which she searches relentlessly. Maybe her quest here is for those glittering stones, for she worships wealth. I cannot imagine what Lord Roxton sees in her, although he seems besotted by her, or maybe he is actually enchanted by this witch.

"Still, this is not all bad, for it keeps his mind from Miss Layton, the freshest and most desirable flower of all that is fine and feminine, and who appeals more to me all of the time, Perhaps in her I will find the means to overcome the hold that Gladys has had on me, for in Veronica Layton, I see more clearly the qualities which Gladys lacks, and which I fervently wish were universal among the fair sex. But Veronica seems to regard me more as a brother or friend than as a potential suitor. I can only hope to convince her that I am entitled to her affections, for I think she is the finest thing that I can hope to court. But even if I succeed in winning her pure heart, she seems loath to leave this cursed green hell for civilization. I think she must just fear the unknown, although I would be pleased to escort her and to introduce her to our modern industrial world and would welcome the opportunity to take her on a train or for a drive in an automobile. I blush to admit it, but I would almost wish for my car to have trouble that would compel us to remain alone for a time and spend hours in just one another's company. Veronica is all that Marguerite Krux is not, and gives me hope for the female race, for women sometimes seem a separate species from our own."

Growing increasingly red in the face, Marguerite read a few more paragraphs and snapped the volume shut as Ned emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a cotton towel made on Veronica's mother's loom.

He saw her with the book and said, "Hey, Marguerite, put that down! That is private information, confidential knowledge for me to use in my book about our journey to this place."

She swerved to glare at him. "Ned, I know damned well what it is, for I have just read your filthy, slandering lies about me and how you were already slavering over that half-dressed blonde jungle girl who was weaving baskets and dancing the hula or whatever while I was graduating from an exclusive women's university and making my own way in the real world! And as for your Miss Gladys…!" And Marguerite snapped open the book and began ripping out pages and wadding them up and throwing them at Ned!

Roxton was coming back downstairs after putting the cleaned binoculars in their leather cases and saw Ned as he snarled an oath at the brunette Briton and chased her, trying to recover what was left of his journal before she destroyed any more of his valued text.

The big hunter ran quickly down and intercepted Ned and shook him violently as he screamed at him never to lay a hand on Marguerite or he, Roxton, would have Ned's guts for garters. "Keep your hands off of her, Ned. I fully mean that. We had this discussion two years ago, and I don't mean to have it again. Do I make myself clear?"

Ned stared coldly at Roxton said very distinctly, "If you can't control your own woman, John, I have to. She destroyed my property and my notes that I need for the future. If she isn't going to quit denigrating me and start respecting my feelings and my rights, I don't think she's worthy of you. If you do, that's your business. But lay a hand on me and our friendship is over! I'm through being bullied by you just because you're lucky enough to be born bigger than I am. Size isn't all that makes a man, Lord Roxton!" And Ned stalked off to the other side of the Treehouse steaming, trying to get control of himself. For the past two years, they had been largely free of this nonsense, with only a very few digs from Marguerite that made him seethe. But this relapse into her earlier transgressions made him rage, remembering all of the unkind, selfish things that had typified her behavior for the first year and a bit that they had been here.

Marguerite glared at Roxton and said, "Leave me alone, John! I can protect myself from sniveling little boys like Neddy Malone. Go back to our room while I get more coffee and calm down. I'll be up in awhile, and hopefully be in a good enough mood to be within fifty yards of. I'm sorry, but the way that I feel with this hangover and the Curse beginning this month and what I read of his snide prose set me off. I just need a few minutes to get myself together, and I'll come up and be fit to know again. Please?"

Roxton looked hard at her, then nodded. "Don't take too long, Marguerite. I'll go find something to do until you arrive." And he went back upstairs.

In the lab, Finn looked in horror at Challenger, who raised his eyebrows and exclaimed, "Upon my word! Will that couple never manage to avoid creating public scenes that give the rest of us indigestion?"

Finn said, "I'll go make some tea, Genius. But I'll try to catch Marguerite and see what's bugging her. I think she's just really hung over and she must have read something that worked on her like shoving a torch into a barrel of black powder. Maybe this is the sort of explosion that that Guy Fawkes guy had in mind for the Houses of Parliament, huh?" She managed a wan smile, kissed George on the cheek and scrambled up the stairs to the main floor of the Treehouse.

She had just left when it struck Challenger what she had said about the Gunpowder Plot of the 1660's and he realized that she had been paying more attention than he had thought when he had taught her about that time in English history. He chuckled, smiling in pride as he thought just how smart and how attentive Finn had turned out to be. Then he thought of what they had just heard pass between the Roxtons and poor Ned Malone and decided to take Roxton aside later and suggest that he not hit Ned unless he was prepared to discuss the matter with him, Prof. George Challenger, the only person in the Treehouse big enough to make Roxton think twice about terrifying Malone. Challenger liked Roxton a great deal, and they were firm friends, but he could not stand aside if the younger man really intended to strike Ned for trying to stand up for himself if Marguerite reverted to type and needled him, ruining his things because she liked to toy with him, knowing that Ned normally would never hit a woman. But he had his male pride, indeed his human pride, and he could not face himself in the mirror if he allowed Marguerite to wipe her feet on him at will. This was now more of a serious matter than before, for Ned could hardly afford to let himself be seen to be belittled in front of Veronica, now that they were together. A worried look passed over the distinguished scientist's features as he realized that Ned, if he felt bitter enough and threatened enough, would go after Roxton. And he would not go looking for a fistfight, which the smaller man could not win against the taller, more powerful Roxton. The difference in their arm lengths alone would keep Ned from defending himself against Roxton's blows and Ned was smart enough to know that. If he met Roxton to defend his honor and his safety, he would not go empty-handed! Challenger worried that Ned might have already gone to his room for his Colt, and decided to go see how Finn was faring with Marguerite in the kitchen. If Ned came looking for the big Earl of Avebury with grim intent, George wanted to be there to head off trouble before it occurred! At the least, he would get Finn to cover and protect her. He hoped that this would not be necessary, but this was not the first squabble that Marguerite had initiated that had caused Roxton to menace Ned, and things might boil over. He was very concerned as he ran for the stairs!

He had just reached the living room when he almost ran into Veronica as she got off the elevator and walked quickly and with purpose toward the stairs to the bedrooms. She stopped short on seeing Challenger and asked, "George, did you see which way Roxton went? And did you just hear what I did, where he threatened Ned if he tried to protect his things from Marguerite?"

"I did, indeed, Veronica. And Finn went to the kitchen to calm Marguerite and see what the fuss is about. I think I had better go help her, but I'll have a talk with John later, to be sure that he does Ned no harm. If he pulls Ned away from Marguerite and pushes him back, he will have done all that is needed to protect her. But I won't have him scaring Ned for standing up for himself, when Roxton can't even control his own woman!" And in that day, a man was in fact responsible for his woman's conduct. Others did not respect a man who was unable to impose proper standards on his mate. To be sure, he had, and was expected to exercise, rights of punishment on her if need be. It was a long time before cigarette makers would pitch their products to ladies on the basis that they had "come a long way, Baby!"

Veronica patted George on the shoulder and said," Yes, go to Finn and see that she stays safe. But you won't need to see Roxton about this. I'll do that right now, by myself! Is he in his room?

"I believe he went that way, yes, but do you want me to accompany you?"

Veronica shook her head. "Thanks, George, but this may go better if only John and I are involved. Another man would just complicate matters. Keep Finny down here, too, please. I'll talk to Marguerite after I finish with Roxton." And she strode toward the stairs with cold resolve.

She saw Roxton in the hall outside his room and motioned him to go into the room with her. He raised his eyebrows in surprise but went, noting that she seemed very put out over something.

"John Richard Roxton," she began, "I heard you yelling at Ned all the way down in the garden, and I know that it was about Marguerite again. I'm going get to the bottom of this, but I'm sure that Marguerite started it, and I'm fast losing patience with her. If she expects to live in this home, she is going to have to respect Ned's rights and stop taunting him. I thought that we were past that now, but maybe not. I'll get her side of it, but I'm rather sure that I can guess what happened. Their voices provided pretty good narration, all the way down to where I was getting those onions! But I'm going to talk to you first, before anything worse happens. If you lay a hand on Ned, especially if you hurt him, you will answer to me, and the result will not be pretty! Is that clear? And I'd better not hear any remarks about Ned hiding behind my skirts, such as they are. He doesn't even know that I'm here. I understand your need to protect Marguerite, but Ned isn't going to hurt her if she leaves him alone. If you want to yell at someone, yell at her. Now, think of who you are and should be and how that applies to how you might lose Ned as a loyal friend just because Marguerite can't control her tantrums and her need to goad others in order to feel like some sort of queen bee. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see what exactly happened and how to deal with it. In the meantime, close the door and lock it. If Ned comes looking for you, I don't want anything to happen until we all cool off. Don't think you can push him too hard. Ned is a different man than he was when he arrived, The good parts are still there, but there's more steel at the core, and he won't take that off of you, and neither will I!" And she stalked angrily out the door, slamming it behind her.

Roxton, shocked, took stock of himself and what he had said, trying to recall his exact words to Ned. Clearly, Veronica had heard, and she was furious. Had he been that forceful? As a large, athletic man who was a hero of iron wars (to use the analogy from, _Henry IV_), he was used to having his own way. He had swaggered a bit when he had come here, and he had a rich, handsome man's ego.. And he did feel entitled to protect Marguerite. But would Ned harm her if she had ruined his book and egged him on to do something to her? No, Ned Malone was a gentleman and a more tolerant, patient man than most. Then it hit him with the force of a battleship's guns firing a broadside what Veronica had meant when she had told him to lock the door and stay away from Ned for the moment,

Roxton now understood: Ned had for years taken abuse from bigger men and no doubt had resented it. But he was basically a brave, moral man, and he had come back from that long walk of self discovery a different, more mature man, more hardened and self –assured. He had had no one but himself to rely on while he trekked the Plateau and he felt new confidence. And now that he was Veronica's spouse in all but law, this was in effect also _his_ Treehouse! Roxton had threatened Ned in what he must surely now regard as his home turf, where Roxton and Marguerite were still guests! No one had said anything about it at a "family" meeting. Neither Ned nor Veronica was that sort of person: they were kind and tolerant, and they genuinely cared for their friends. They would have regarded it as rather vulgar and divisive to set themselves up to dictate rules any more than Veronica had for the past three years, to ensure that household chores got done, meals were cooked, the garden tended to, things like that. And she often called for volunteers to attend to such matters, other than the garden. She and Finn normally took care of that, enlisting aid only if needed.

Yes, Ned had had a cold, dead stare in his eyes that said that he was through being bullied by either Roxton or Marguerite. He just might mean it, might now be looking for Roxton with his heavy Colt automatic in hand to equalize matters, given the difference in their physiques. Or, he and Veronica might just talk and decide to banish the Roxtons from the Treehouse! Challenger and Finn would agonize over that and might try to stay friends with both parties, but they would probably back the Malones. It was the just thing to do, and they needed the safety of the house in the boughs of this mighty tree! Challenger might vacillate, for he was a close friend of the Roxtons, but he had his precious lab here and he would worry about taking Finn out to find a new shelter, if they could. Roxton realized that Challenger was as protective of Finn as he was of Marguerite. No, George and Finn would stay here, and they probably had more in common with the Malones temperamentally than they did with him and Marguerite. He shivered, and drew his own Colt .45 automatic, cycling the slide to load a cartridge into the chamber. He put up the thumb safety, and closed the flap of the holster when he returned the gun to the leather. He didn't want the cocked hammer to show, in case it might escalate the situation.

Then, he fidgeted over another matter: what was happening to Marguerite while he cooled his heels in this room?. Would Veronica slap her, or worse? If Marguerite struck her, Veronica would perhaps throw her across the room and maybe follow up with worse!

Then his harried breathing eased as he realized that Veronica wouldn't do anything uncalled for, and that Marguerite knew that the former Amazon blonde could whip her in a fight. She might slap Ned but never Veronica or Finn! They would have no inhibitions about striking another woman and both were highly skilled hand-to-hand fighters. Roxton knew that Finn, at least, had killed strong men with her bare hands and knees. She had done this once in Xochilenque, to save his and Marguerite's lives! And Veronica was probably as dangerous if aroused. Maybe more so.

Roxton decided to listen at the door. He would wait a few more minutes; to be sure that Ned wasn't approaching him, then open the door and try to overhear whether he needed to go to his mate's aid. In the meantime, he would trust to Veronica's innate mercy and kindness to see that things didn't get out of hand. She might at this very moment be calming Ned, too. But one thing was now certain: he would no longer presume overmuch on his size and aggression in dealing with Ned Malone, or take Ned for granted! Everyone in this Treehouse needed to respect and look out for the others. There was a world of dangers here that required them to stand together or fall on their own. Roxton resolved to ask Ned's forgiveness, while not backing down from his duty to protect Marguerite. But he wondered, as he had in the past at times, who would protect them all from the brunette woman's temper and sarcasm?

Veronica found Marguerite picking up the pieces of Ned's journal, talking to Ned, who had returned to gather the remnants of his writing. He had been surprised to find Marguerite and Finn rescuing the torn papers, and Marguerite looked at him with surprise and contrition.

She shrugged. "Ned, if you want to come over here and slap me while John is upstairs, go ahead. I won't tell him. I'm sorry that I overreacted and made a fool of myself and probably got him in trouble with you and Veronica. I just have this splitting hangover headache and female plumbing troubles beginning, and I didn't like reading the truth about who and what I was a couple of years ago. I thought I was over tantrums, and I've been good for a long time until now. What can I do to make this up to you and to Veronica, for I have surely upset her, too? I think she went up to see John, which I hope ends well. I take responsibility for the whole thing. I'm too proud to crawl to you and beg, but please do forgive me. I'll pay to have a secretary in London type your notes when we get off of the Plateau. With the damage that I've done it's the least that I can do. And I'll have John apologize to you for some of what he said. Not all, for he was being my man and a protector. But that was my fault. He normally gets along with you and considers you his friend. Please don't let that change." She knew full well that Ned would probably not accept her offer to slap her, but it made her seem more humble and apologetic to say that. Marguerite was a shrewd manipulator.

"Friends don't threaten friends, Marguerite, and John needs to apologize to me on his own. If I think he's sincere and was just afraid for you, I may accept his apology. But no more is he going to take me for granted as a smaller man in my own house. I may not stand as tall as he does, but I'll stand up for my rights. And he should have known that I was only trying to get back my journal when I chased you. I hope that I wouldn't have even slapped you, although you know how to push my buttons. Quit doing that. For good! All of us have to respect one another and get along, or we're in real trouble in this jungle." He shrugged. "You apologized. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you meant it. Like you said, this was an isolated event, given how we've managed for the past two years. And I'm sorry that you read what I wrote so long ago, before I saw your better side. I never meant for you to read that. Never mind having it typed for me. I'll find a better way to describe our early difficulties and make it clear that we evolved and got along. But I want your second apology for what you said about Veronica being a basket weaver and a hula dancer. You know that isn't true. She endured far more than you did in some ways. She just lived in a different sort of jungle."

Marguerite nodded. "I feel like a total heel for saying that," she admitted. "Please don't tell her about it. It might ruin my friendship with her and I treasure that more than I can say."

Ned looked hard at her. "More than you can say, despite having graduating from an exclusive women's college?"

Marguerite flushed. "Yes. I said that I was sorry, and I am. I'm just toxic sometimes." She glanced over at Challenger. "George, have you got an aspirin or one of those other analgesic pills that you make? I really do have a splitting headache. That rum and the wine last night got to me. Granted that it was me who drank too much, not the fault of your fine rum, I'm suffering from it."

He nodded and looked at Finn, who sprang down the stairs with a backwards look at her friends. If ever anyone had tried to paint a look of concern on a face, Finn's countenance bore that look. Challenger winced as he thought how this must be affecting his woman, his protégé, his love. She was concerned for all of her friends, and probably wondering if they'd have to choose to leave with the Roxtons or stay with the Malones. Challenger was wondering that, himself. He had been thinking much what Roxton had, and was unsure if this altercation had ended. If push came to shove, he would stay, and felt almost certain that Finn would, too. He remembered now what she had said when he had tried to order her to remain at home while he went on a perilous journey the year that she had first come into his soul and into his bed.

Finn had looked firmly at him and said that her place was with him. "Whither thou goest, there will I go, also," she had quoted, surprising him with her knowledge of the Bible, which she had been reading as she sought to learn the King James period English. He sensed that her attitude had not wavered, if anything had grown stronger. Yes, Finn would have followed, whatever decision he made, although as a determined survivor, she would have argued for the Treehouse solution. It simply offered better odds of staying alive and the lab could not realistically be located elsewhere. Challenger felt a certain peace descend upon him, and he blessed the day that he had rescued the black-clad vixen from the ruins of New Amazonia. Hmm... How odd that it wasn't called Nova Amazonia or whatever the Portuguese term for "New" was. Maybe that sign had been on a road used primarily by the English-speaking expatriate colony to which Finn's parents had belonged. Brazilians would have hardly posted their signs in English!

He realized with a start that Veronica was standing looking at them, as Finn came up from the lab with the headache pills. Then, then the others saw her, too, and saw John Roxton coming downstairs.

Roxton looked sheepishly at Veronica. "I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening to Marguerite," he admitted. "For better or for worse, she is mine, and I have a responsibility to look after her. Ned, will you please forgive me for my attitude earlier? I was angry and offensive because I thought that you might not be able to control yourself if you'd caught Marguerite."

"And whose fault would that have been?" said Veronica sharply. "Never mind. Is this, this, whatever it was, over? If it is, I have onions and carrots to gather."

Marguerite flushed in shame. "It's over Veronica, except that I need to apologize to you for some things that I said about you when I had my little tantrum They weren't true. I just wanted to hurt Ned and I knew that the most effective way to do that was to insult you in his presence. I won't repeat them unless you insist. I don't want to risk what I hope is still a friendship between us. Can I hope that we are still friends? I'd be devastated if you shut me out"

Veronica folded her arms over her desirable bosom and tapped her foot, thinking. "Marguerite, friends don't insult their best friend's husband and put him in danger from your own man. If you think that you can avoid that in future, we're still friends. But give me the rest of the day to use up some real mad. Stay away from me for awhile. By supper, I should be okay again. I'd appreciate it if you Roxtons will eat lunch in your own room today. I'm sorry, but I'm still pretty strung out over this. Neddy, are you okay with that solution? This is your house, too, and I'm your wife. You have the final say here."

"Maybe John and Marguerite should go explore somewhere and maybe knock over some suitable animal for the larder. By supper, Vee and I will expect you back and we won't discuss this anymore. Does that suit everyone?" Ned was still angry, and it showed. But he was trying to see that this incident ended well, and Roxton was grateful for that. He looked at Marguerite and they nodded to one another.

"We'll get our things and go have a picnic by the river and see about shooting a brocket deer," the hunter announced "And Marguerite and I need to talk. Ned, thanks for your tolerance. I won't try your patience again. I won't apologize for defending Marguerite. I was concerned for her safety. But I probably handled it badly." He nodded curtly to the others and signaled for Marguerite to follow him to their room.

When they were out of hearing of the others, Marguerite whispered to John, "Did you see that .45 in the back of Ned's belt? I think he was trying not to show it unless he had to, but I think you really jarred him. We, mainly me, came close to causing something truly bad to happen here today."

Roxton looked unsettled. "So, he really went and got the Colt! I was afraid of that after Veronica gave me a tongue-lashing. All right, Ned is a new man and I'll try not to patronize him any longer, if I have been. He's shown courage before. I just hate it that he was justified in arming himself against me. And it will take awhile for them to get over this. We'd better be on our toes not to offend anyone for some time. Understand, Marguerite?" He looked sternly at her.

She nodded. "Yes, John. Thanks for standing by me when I didn't deserve it."

He smiled wanly." I've sort of gotten used to that, Marguerite. Let's both try hard to get out of the habit of me having to do it. Come on, let's get packed. Don't forget your compass. I was quite put out last week when I found that you were carrying diamonds where it was supposed to be. That pouch on your belt is for the compass. It may save your life if we get separated and have to run from something trying to eat us or cut off our heads and shrink them for trophies. If you feel the need to carry jewels everywhere, I'll make you another little drawstring leather bag. But your belt pouches are for ammo and that compass. "

She nodded, "Yes, John. I hear and obey. Well, sometimes…"

It was nearly six when the Roxtons straggled home, bearing an ocellated turkey. "We didn't get a deer," explained Roxton, "but we collected this turkey, and I think we can get a couple of others there next week in time for Thanksgiving, Ned." He looked to see if Malone was still piqued.

The American was reserved, but nodded and thanked him. "Thanksgiving dinner means a lot to me, the lone Yankee here. I like to celebrate that and the Fourth of July. You Limeys have been good about that. Not to mention the two wonderful Brazilian girls, even before I married one of them." (Indeed, Veronica was probably legally his spouse under common law marriage.)

"It's because you make ice cream then, Ned," teased Finn, an impish grin on her lovely face. Challenger tousled her hair and she snuggled next to him.

"Put the turkey on the back porch in the meat room," said Veronica. "John and Finny or I will pluck it after supper. We saw you coming in the distance and held dinner for you. I'll go heat it while you clean up."

Later, all three couples were abed in their own rooms when Veronica said to Ned, "So you went after Marguerite because she said those things about me being a half-dressed blonde hula dancer and basket-weaver as much as because she had messed with your journal?"

The light was still on and Ned nodded. "Sure. It made me so mad that I couldn't see straight. No one calls you things like that, especially a pretentious adventuress who was damned lucky to score a nobleman for a mate. I hope it works out between them. I really do. But she isn't going to get away with saying things like that about you."

Veronica walked over to Ned and embraced him. "My hero!" she murmured. "Take me to bed, Neddy and wear me out. I need to sleep soundly tonight, and that's the happiest way that I can think of to be sure that I conk out when I'm ready. Besides, I want to be taken thoroughly and at length by the man who deserves me more than I can say."

Ned leered at her and reached to unfasten her loincloth. "I can go for that, Baby. But I'm really glad that what almost happened today got defused in time. I like Roxton and usually even get along with his snooty bimbo, too. Okay, I'm still a little mad at her. She mostly deserves to be better spoken of. Get the rest of that stuff off and get in here with me and get my mind off of the Earl of Avebury and his future Countess."

Veronica smiled at him, a sultry, provocative look. "Yes, Mr. Malone. I'll do my best. Oh, Neddy, I so love you!" And love him is just what she did next! But when they were finished with their lovemaking, Veronica snuggled next to Ned and laughed softly. "You know, Ned, I really did learn how to weave baskets and dance like the Zanga girls. Marguerite wasn't too far off with that remark about me being a hula dancer. I'll show you soon. But she learned Middle Eastern dance, herself. I just don't think either of us girls should be evaluated primarily on the basis of our dancing skills. Or, comparing her sewing to my basketweaving!"

Ned agreed, but held her to her promise to demonstrate her dances, and the Malones drifted off to sleep in one another's arms. Before she slept, Veronica took internal satisfaction that she sewed, and could weave, while Marguerite Krux had never been known to make a basket! Or a blanket!

Down the hall, George and Finn lay discussing the day, including the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration. "This year, we all have even more than usual to be grateful for," opined the big scientist. "If this unfortunate event with the Roxtons helped Ned to feel manlier and genuinely more secure in his own home, perhaps it was worth the disturbance. And I know John well enough to feel sure that he felt badly after he considered his actions at length. Look here, Darling: do you want to join me in hunting for more turkeys? John and Marguerite can go, too, and we can hunt adjoining areas, to better enhance our chances of getting birds. I do quite like turkey meat, Yank holidays or not. And it's awhile since we hunted together."

Finn was mildly surprised that George was willing to leave the lab for a day. "Sure, Genius, 'way cool! Look, do you want to fool around? I'm there if you want me, but I'm kind of emotionally exhausted after what happened earlier. Can we just sort of cuddle and go to sleep?"

He nodded, and set out their revolvers and their flashlights on each side of the bed, then climbed in and shut off the nightstand light. "Come cuddle," he said. "I find that almost as restoring to my soul as sex, although that has much to be said for it, also." He chuckled as she came into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Finn, earlier today, I wondered briefly if you would come with me if I chose to leave the Treehouse if the Roxtons were evicted. Then, I remembered you telling me that you were like the Biblical Ruth, that where I went, there you would follow. It warmed my heart and put me in mind of another Biblical allusion. The bit about how the value of a good woman is above that of rubies. How does it feel to be prized above rubies?"

"Hell if I know," she teased. "I'm not a good woman; I'm a fun one! Which would you rather have?" She ran her fingernails quickly up his leg, and his flesh tingled at her skilful move. "Seriously, thanks, Genius. But as for whether we'd leave or stay if it had come to that, what did you decide? Would my input have mattered?"

"Certainly, Darling," he said with some surprise. "I always consult you before making an important decision. And I think we should stay, if a parallel situation ever arises.. What do you think? Ned and Veronica do have the ideal shelter, and the Zanga are peaceful toward them because Veronica grew up in their village and because the chief's daughter is her friend. On the outside, we should perhaps not fare so well, although their Paramount Shaman does seem to like us." (The mighty witch doctor Xma'Klee was not only the head shaman but also Chief Jacoba's cousin.)

He felt Finn's head nod against his right shoulder. "Good choice, Lover. Now, hold me and tell me that we'll never have to make that decision for real. I don't even want to think about it. Johnny is like my brother or uncle and even Marguerite is usually a blast to know. I wasn't here yet when she had those problems when you first arrived! "

"Very well, Finn," Challenger said. "I doubt that we'll ever face that choice, and I think the odds of that being true are high. It will take awhile for everyone to get back to normal, but it will happen. We admire each other and need each other too much for us to nurse a grudge once the cause has passed. Now, go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her bare shoulder and ran a hand down her blonde hair. "Much love, Nicole. " (Finn's full name was Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan.)

She snuggled against him, fitting her sleek body against his in the spoons pattern that she liked to be in when she drifted off. "G'night, Genius. And more love right back."

And so ended a stressful day in the Treehouse. And Challenger was happy that he had not had to say things to John Roxton that might have come between them. He draped an arm over his mate and kissed her neck before he slept. Tomorrow would be better. He looked forward to the turkey hunt and all the trimmings of a Thanksgiving dinner. Life was good, and would get better.

The End


End file.
